


Always

by Goodnightsammy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Fix-It, Force Ghost Ben Solo, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey Solo, Reylo - Freeform, Soft Ben Solo, tros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodnightsammy/pseuds/Goodnightsammy
Summary: Post-TROS Ben Solo is a force ghost, just trying to convince Rey she's not alone.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> The Reylo energy continues. This snippet is a continuum of what would happen after TROS if Ben had a force ghost and wasn't just, ya know, dead. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

“Why’d you come back for me?” Rey asked in a sigh. She was lounging on her back on the sandy ground of Luke Skywalker’s childhood home, one arm tucked behind her head as she gazed up at the ceiling—or would be, if it were not for the translucent blue glow of Ben Solo floating a foot above her, mirroring her position as if he were lounging backward against the empty air. It reminded her of the way he looked back on Exegol—shrouded in the light sapphire haze of their sabers, side by side, as it was always meant to be. As it would never be again.

“What? And leave my other half hanging?” Ben joked, cocking his head to the side, a sly smile tugging on the corner of his lips. So much like his father it sent deep pangs of ache through Rey’s chest. Despite Ben’s best efforts, she did not seem amused. His face softened then, something like sorrow and pain and _love_ drifting across his features. “You needed me,” he said simply.

“If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here, in this mess,” Rey exhaled. She tried to look through him, to look past him. She wondered quietly if it would be better if he wasn’t even there at all. Instead, she’s taunted by a memory she may never escape. Guilt curls through her in cool, dark tendrils. How are you supposed to love someone who isn’t even really _there._

“By here, do you mean Tatooine? ‘Cause that was really more your decision—” Ben started with a laugh. Rey glared back in response as if to say _you know what I mean._ In that moment, Ben spun around in the air and sank to the ground to lie next to Rey. The ghost of him tickled her side—she couldn’t _really_ feel him, she knew. It wasn’t like when they connected over space and time, when all she had to do to be with him was reach out and touch. “There was no other choice,” Ben answered. His voice felt suddenly very far away, as if he was a mere echo of some time before, a shadow against the dirt, “there was only ever you. I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t.”

This Ben, all blue and transparent and _not even really there_ was wiser than Rey thought was fair. He sounded just like his mother in his softer moments—talking in slow and easy absolutes. The worlds answers seemed like tangible beings when he spoke, as if he had seen them with his own eyes and _just knew._ She didn’t say this though, instead she said, “I can’t even feel you here.” It sounded quiet and scared and unsure and so gosh darn _alone_ that Rey wanted to sink into the ground and hide. She felt reduced to the child she was on Jakku all over again—hiding out in the shells of old machines, mere skeletons of the past. She wondered, vaguely, if she was the skeleton and not the girl climbing around inside.

“Of course you can, _of course you can,_ ” Ben insisted, propping himself up on his side to look at Rey. His gaze was the only thing that held weight now. It bore into her, searching.

“You’re not even really here!” Rey screamed, shoving herself up off the floor and back against the wall in a fit of anger. Particles of sand lifted up into the air and hung there, as if caught on an unmoving breeze. There was so much anger in her since after—so little hope left. She tucked her knees up against her chest and began to cry. The sand rained down much the same.

Ben grew quiet. He didn’t try to laugh or smirk or kid the pain away. Instead, he drew himself in close, and Rey looked up at him, eyes wide. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, low against her ear, “feel me with you.”

It started as the ghost of a breeze in her hair. She could feel the strands twist around each other in some invisible wind. It spread like a deep warmth against her skin—soft heat pressing against her tear-stained cheek like an open palm. She leaned into the touch as if it was the only thing in the world that was solid, anymore. She wasn’t prepared for the press of cool lips against her own, but she pushed back into them, hungry for his touch, drinking it in like gulps of fresh air. It felt as if she had stopped breathing until this moment.

“I am with you,” Ben sighed against Rey’s mouth. When she opened her eyes, there he was, solid and whole and _alive._ “Always.”


End file.
